


but at least the war is over

by tenant (orphan_account)



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon Continuation, Dark Continent Arc, Eventual Happy Ending, Kurapika Needs a Hug, M/M, Obscure Dark Continent Characters You Forgot Existed, We'll get there at some point
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:08:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26898700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/tenant
Summary: Priorities are re-evaluated on board the Black Whale. The leopika angst you never asked for, ft. an overworked Kurapika.
Relationships: Kurapika/Leorio Paladiknight
Comments: 1
Kudos: 22





	but at least the war is over

**Author's Note:**

> All titles are from ultimate moody song "In Our Bedroom After the War" by Stars. Obviously, we're referring to the succession war, which will end... eventually.

Kurapika had not slept in four days. On board the Black Whale, the hours moved at a syrupy pace, each moment thick with the knowledge that the lives of a young mother and her child depended on his minute concentration. How could he rest when every second was a battle, each word a polished weapon? How could he rest when, hiding behind it all, behind the reluctant fondness he’d come to bear for the youngest member of the royal family, lurked a gnawing pain, an ever present glow of red framing his every thought?

On the rare nights when Kurapika would give in to the constraints of mortality, when his eyes were so raw that they leaked red, when after long days and long nights without rest he was plunged into a crashing ocean and pummeled with the waves of his tumultuous subconscious, Kurapika drowned in the blood of his lost family— blood infecting the water with its oil-slick crimson, defying chemical properties and clinging to his form, blood that stung his skin and drew, magnetic, to his open palms as he clutched for a handhold that was not there. And then he would drag himself out of the ocean with a heaving chest and gaping heart, and as he lay, back drenched with the tears of his people, on an expensive mattress in the room of a murderer, he would find comfort in the wetness staining his cheeks. Only then, in such moments of loneliness and desperation, would Kurapika allow himself to dwell on a different story, on a world where he had accepted a friend’s offer of help, on a life in which he spent his mornings wrapped up in Leorio’s warm embrace, in which the corners of Kurapika’s lips would curve gently at the sight of the man’s long limbs tangling with his own in the early hours of the morning. The sun would rise with a golden yawn, and the world would hold its breath for the two souls seeking solace in the presence of a kindred soul.

Kurapika knew these fever dreams made in the middle of the night posed a danger to his sanity; to linger on what had never and could never have been was self-flagellation at best. And yet, it was these wisps of imagination that kept Kurapika from crumbling entirely.

But now was not the time for such musings.

Queen Oito and Prince Woble lay fast asleep in the room behind him, unguarded save for whatever protection his chains could provide. Bill’s ability was ill-suited for combat, and while a host of nen beasts made monsters out of their masters in the world outside, the young queen and her daughter had no such reserves to draw upon. Kurapika would stay vigilant; he made sharp calculations and lectured all day, and as the ring of cloudy black at the edges of his vision crept forward, he steeled himself to remain awake. He would not have the blood of two more innocents on his hands.

* * *

The medical ward was a blur of moving files and patients. As members of history, the medical team had been instructed to meticulously document any findings, including all patient injuries and conditions. Each day hung heavy with the cries of the injured, and the number of passengers who had been caught in the middle of the succession war (though they did not know this had caused the constant dueling) only increased as time ticked on. Leorio, during the course of his assistant duties as a half-bureaucratic worker half-filing cabinet, had calculated they would soon run out of space. When he had come to Cheadle with his findings clutched in his white-knuckled fist, she had only shaken her head from side to side and gently let him know that they would have to let terminal cases go to make room for more hopeful ones. Eyes stinging with indignation, Leorio had let out a useless, brash remark about how he would never let it come to that, but as he had turned away he and Cheadle had shared a look of anguish; they both knew it would be inevitable.

When the first wealthy passenger had ordered space to be made for their daughter, the medical team had no choice but to let a less fortunate patient go. In the belly of the Black Whale, money and position were the law, and Leorio, who had become a doctor to provide care for those who could not afford it, wept for the cruelty of it all. Chest burning with stabbing anger, Leorio threw himself into his work, going over medical documents and trailing Cheadle as she made her rounds until his eyes ached from the wing’s fluorescent lighting. In the dark hours of the night, when the cries became too much to bear, Leorio focused on his nen, grasping at the power to devise an ability through which he might be able to provide comfort and healing, until heartache and exhaustion overtook him and he lapsed into a troubled slumber.

And it was on nights like these that Leorio dreamed of golden hair. He dreamed of a rare smile and a full laugh, well-earned; of constant teasing and concern; of eyes, flashing red with emotion; and of a boy who had once been unafraid to voice his thoughts and allow Leorio to share his burden. That boy was gone now. Sometime during the span of countless unanswered phone calls, that boy, that child, really, had lost himself in grief and self-loathing and out of that furnace had emerged as a hardened man. A  _ murderer _ .

Even half-awake, Leorio knew that he had been avoiding what Kurapika had become. The child who had grown up with no other goal than to save lives shuddered to see his friend develop a nen ability specifically for the purpose of harming others. And yet, Leorio couldn’t help but to love him. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'll probably add more to this chapter later instead of adding a new chapter. Comments and feedback are, as always, much appreciated :)


End file.
